


I'll see you at the weekends

by StoriesbyNessie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Ron Weasley, Auror Training, Blow Jobs, Cute, Dramatic Draco Malfoy, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, I Love You, Light Angst, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Naked Cuddling, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Ron is a student, Ron's teddybear, Silly Arguments, Worry, emotional draco, shoebox flat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesbyNessie/pseuds/StoriesbyNessie
Summary: With Ron studying to become an Auror, Draco is only allowed to see him at the weekends. Waiting for the days to pass so it will be Friday again is hell when you’re in love and Draco hates himself for being so sappy. And Ron is an adult who refuses to stop sleeping with his childhood teddy bear.There’s the worry too. So much worry.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 186





	1. Saturday morning cuddles

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a story idea that has been sitting in my drafts for far too long. I started it many months ago, but it remained a WIP until now. I was originally going to use it for a fest but decided to go with something else instead, so instead of scrapping this idea entirely, I am uploading it as its own story. It's in three parts and in the moment of writing it's mostly finished. Uploading schedule will be once a week. :)

**Part I: Saturday morning cuddles**

Draco opened his eyes and squinted at the sunlight that flooded in through the blinds in the cramped little flat. He stretched and sat up, a filthy little grin crept over his features as his eyes fell on the still sleeping redhead he’d shared the bed with. In fact, this was the redhead’s bed, and last night’s activities had been more than enjoyable. Like it always was by the end of every week when Draco came over to Ron Weasley’s flat. Draco took in the view next to him, smiling at the memories as the night flashed through his mind.

Ron was sleeping on his belly with one hand tucked in under the pillow. His naked, freckled back was exposed, the duvet only covering the equally bare lower parts of his body. He faced away from Draco, his sleep-tousled hair wild at the back of his head. Draco couldn’t resist leaning forward, pressing a kiss to a bare shoulder. He almost shuddered when his lips touched warm pink-pale skin. Just like always, there was a tingling sensation deep within him, making every molecule in him sing at the intimate contact. He couldn’t help but pressing another kiss and then another, nose inhaling the comforting, safe smell of _Ron_ as Draco kissed his way up to the nape of Ron’s neck _._ Ron still smelt of the alcohol they had been drinking last night and his hair faintly smelt of early summer’s air. Draco pressed his own body against Ron’s, his hand moving over soft, but firm skin. He felt the muscles in Ron’s back against his palm, varying with fingertips gently tickling until he felt the redhead sleepily wriggle before he turned over to face him. Ron slowly opened his blue eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light.

“Timeizzit?” Ron lifted his head slightly from the pillow to glance at the clock next to his bed. He narrowed his eyes when he saw the time and tossed back his head on the pillow with a small groan. “Only ten am; fuck’s sake. I’ve only been asleep for six hours!”

“ _W_ e, Weasley, get it right,” Draco said gently and leant even closer, “ _We’ve_ only been asleep six hours.”

Ron laughed sleepily at that. “Well then, yeah, _we…_ And _we_ should go back to sleep. Come on mate, I never get to sleep in…” He smiled and closed his eyes when Draco’s nose nuzzled his cheek. “What’s with you and this over-cuddling? You still drunk or what?”

“No.” Draco shook his head before pressing a kiss to Ron’s freckled nose. He didn’t know what had come over him. Draco just knew he had woken up mere minutes ago and suddenly craved Ron like never before. Like he needed Weasley to breathe, or feel whole. It was weird how enamoured he was with him and with everything regarding him. Freckles, red hair, blue eyes, his smile, hands, body, feet, legs, laugh… Draco wanted, _needed_ it all.

For seven long months, Draco had been over to Ron’s flat every weekend. Ron was in training to become an Auror and had moved far away from home into his own little place. It could hardly be called a flat though, Draco thought, Ron’s entire home was in one room. He had a cramped little bathroom, but everything else, stove, kitchen table and chairs, sofa and bed was in one square-shaped room that reminded Draco of a shoebox. Ron had laughed when Draco had pointed that out-- something he never would have done just a few years ago when Draco would tease and pick on him for his lack of wealth. Both of them had come a long way since their days at Hogwarts; the war had made them bury the hatchet and make peace. Ron was no longer the tall, lanky boy with hand-me-down-robes, too short trousers and a sour mood; he was a man in his early twenties with a respectable reputation as a war hero. Draco wasn’t the same either. Previously standing on the wrong side of the war, he could have easily been frowned upon in their world afterwards, but officially making peace with Harry Potter and even becoming friends with him had given him a good reputation as well. Life was joyful and stress-free, and Draco was so incredibly smitten with the youngest Weasley boy that it should have been illegal.

He removed the duvet and climbed on top of Ron, connecting their naked bodies, and kissed the redhead on the mouth. Ron kissed back, weak and tired and his mouth full of morning breath. He let his wide hands move over Draco’s back.

“Seriously…” Ron whispered when they parted for air, “I really am tired. Sleep for a bit longer?” He smiled and lifted a hand to caress Draco’s cheek. “Dunno what’s up with you… You’re usually never this… this…” He gestured feebly to the air as if he couldn’t find the proper word to describe what Draco was. Ron lifted his head to give Draco a small kiss on the lips. “But I like it,” he assured him quickly in a low voice before Draco could respond, “If I wasn’t so damn knackered right now I would’ve repeated last night…” To prove his point, Ron playfully slapped Draco’s naked buttock, and Draco snickered, hiding his face in Ron’s throat.

“Perhaps it was what I was hoping for,” he said in a muffled voice against the soft skin. Ron’s laugh made his body vibrate underneath Draco’s, sending waves of joy through his own.

“Later…” Ron whispered close to Draco’s ear, teasingly groping his arse. “Promise.” He kissed the shell of Draco’s ear before flipping him, so he landed with his back against the soft mattress. Then Ron pulled him close in a swift motion, gently turning him once more so Draco’s back was against Ron’s chest. He curled his arm around him and kissed his shoulder.

They lay there in the silence of the room, hearing the noises of people outside and birds chirping. Draco felt the warmth of Ron close to him. Ron always got so ridiculously warm when he slept; Draco felt sweat forming on his back from the heat. He listened to his boyfriend’s even breaths and didn’t dare to move despite not being tired at all. He faced the white wall and licked his lips.

_There’s something I want to tell him._

Draco hated how sappy he had become since he started going out with Weasley. Ron made his knees soft and weak, and being in his presence made Draco want to do ridiculous things. It was weird, and he despised how needy he was. Draco made sure it didn’t show, Weasley would never let him live it down if he noticed how Draco was so in love he almost wished he could shrink himself and climb into the pocket of Weasley’s robes and be with him all the time. They only had time to see each other on the weekends and Monday through Friday afternoon felt like hell. Friday evening to Sunday evening was paradise. Weekends always flew by. In a flash, it was all over. Draco always wished he could freeze the time. Never leave Weasley’s flat.

Seven months of dating had done things to him too. As Draco lay there listening to Ron’s, now light snoring, he knew there was something he absolutely needed to say. There never seemed to be any right moment to say it though. Draco wasn’t used to say things like that. How was one supposed…

What he wanted to say held so much power; if he said it aloud, there was no taking back. He also feared that Weasley… might not feel the same. Mulling over this was eating him up and had done for a while. He had thought about so many times to just send Ron a letter instead, but he couldn’t bear it.

_Perhaps I should just… There’s really not any easy way._

Draco’s mouth was dry. He licked his lips again, blinked a few times and cleared his throat.

“Weasley?” He whispered, trying his voice.

No answer.

“Weasley!” Draco said, louder. He wriggled a little to alert Ron too.

“Mm?” Ron stirred. “Whaddyawant?”

_Oh fuck._

“Weasley, I…”

The words caught in his throat. He just couldn’t say it.

Ron lay behind him, his breath tickled the nape of Draco’s neck.

Time stood still.

“What’s the matter?” Ron asked. “Look, Draco, if you can’t sleep, go up. I won’t complain if you use the telly. _If_ you can figure out how it works, that is.” Draco could hear the smile in Ron’s voice.

“Why the hell do you sleep with a teddy bear?”

Draco’s eyes had fallen on the old, patched-up plush bear Ron had been having in his bed for as long as Draco had known him as he did now. The very same bear Ron once had confided to Draco that his deceased brother Fred had turned into a spider when they were children. It was now staring at Draco with its black, beady, empty eyes and it was so ugly, it would even have made the house-elves cry.

“You’re a grown man,” Draco continued when Ron laughed loudly at the commentary. “Grown men don’t have stuffed toys in their beds.”

“Jealous?” Ron teased, poking his fingers into Draco’s side.

“No,” Draco said in a sour tone, hating the way his cheeks reddened slightly. Of course, Ron heard the moodiness in his voice. When his face came into Draco’s view, he was grinning.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Ron told him in a hushed voice. “I like it.”

Draco huffed in annoyance. He was on his back now, gazing into Ron’s blue eyes.

“You are!” Ron’s grin only grew wider.

Draco wanted to say the same. Ron’s skin flushed so easily, which was one of the most adorable things Draco had ever seen in his entire life. There never seemed to be an occasion which Ron didn’t blush on: he blushed when they had sex, when they ate food, when they watched that damn television thingy together Ron insisted on putting on.Draco was secretly afraid of it because it was an unpredictable Muggle device that was loud and had too many strange things on that he didn’t understand, but Ron loved. Weasley blushed all the time.

The strange Muggle television set seemed important to Weasley. He had a love for Muggle movies and every time they watched one, his eyes lit up like a child’s, which was another thing that was so adorable and sweet with Ron, according to Draco.

Some Muggle movies were weirder than others. Ron had dared Draco to watch a horror film with him one night, and after that Draco had been too sarcastic and proud to admit that he’d been absolutely terrified. Ron had sensed it anyway, because, during the whole movie, he remained close, closer than he usually was. Then, when the credits rolled, and the film was over, Ron had given Draco a glass of Firewhiskey, knowing that it would calm his nerves before he took Draco to his bed and held him close all night.

A tingling sensation surged through Draco’s belly as he lay close to Ron in bed this Saturday morning, taking in his comfort and warmth and gazing up into those blue pools that made Draco almost lose his mind.

Fucking Weasley, Draco… _loved_ him. He did, and it was so hard to tell him and so hard to admit, even to himself. Why did Ron absolutely _have_ to be so easy to love and feel safe around and look so cute when he had that enormous stupid smile like he had now?

“So why do you have it?” Draco prompted in a more irritated and accusing tone than he had been prepared for. He could feel his jaw clench, hints of anger rushed through his veins. Draco wouldn’t let it show, of course, he was a former Slytherin after all and mastered self-control like nobody else.

“I don’t know,” said Ron teasingly, still smiling like the idiot Draco decided he was. “What can I say, Draco, he’s a toy I’ve had since childhood. I'm attached to him; it's been so many years, brought him to Hogwarts too, though he stayed in my trunk all the time…” Ron shrugged before he leant down and started to plant kisses along Draco’s tightened jaw and down the side of his neck. “Besides…” Ron continued, mouthing the skin, “Why do you care now anyway? That bear was here last weekend too. You know he’s been sleeping in my bed long before since, well, since you started to.” There was amusement in Ron’s voice; clearly, he thought of this as a joke.

Draco began to protest, utterly outraged, but Ron’s kissing down his throat felt so damn good. The redhead moved quickly down the neck, dragging his tongue over the collarbone and over Draco’s chest. Ron moved south over the front of his body at a tantalisingly slow speed, and it was so good it bent Draco’s brain. He fought hard not to lose his train of thoughts, but it was impossible when Ron did what he did to him. Draco desperately wanted to keep ranting, wanted to tell Ron how stupid and childish it was that he had a _fucking_ teddy bear in his bed, wanted to say anything, but most of all, he really, really wanted to say _the_ thing and—

Draco’s heart pounded wildly in his chest when Ron’s soft lips moved over a flat stomach and further down. None of them had had as much as a thread of clothing on their bodies when they went to sleep last night, so nothing separated Ron’s mouth from Draco’s most sensitive parts. His cock already showed interest in what Ron did, and when the redhead’s lips wrapped around it, Draco lost the ability to think altogether.

The teddy bear along with what he originally had wanted to say was all gone before he knew it.

_Thought Weasley was too tired for this…_

Clearly, he wasn’t, and Draco couldn’t help the ridiculous, low and small sound escaping him before he was able to stop himself. Ron’s tongue swiped over the head of Draco’s cock, as carefully as only he could. He kissed gently down the shaft and licked his way up to the top again. Ron’s fingers caressed Draco’s balls, and Draco felt himself turn to jelly under Ron’s touch. His head was pressed back against the soft pillow, his hands reaching for Ron’s fiery hair. Draco buried his fingers deep inside the tendrils, his belly fluttered with anticipation and want. This was another unfair thing. Weasley just knew what to do to awake lust within Draco’s body.

Ron’s head bobbed up and down over Draco’s cock, first slow and steady before he became eager too and started going faster. Draco drew in a sharp breath through his nose, but soon he gasped at the stained ceiling that somebody had done a horrible job of painting. He thought fleetingly he should tell Ron to fix it, put a spell at it or whatever but Ron’s mouth was like a warm cave; he hollowed his cheeks while he sucked liked there was no fucking tomorrow. Draco’s eyes slipped shut for a moment before he turned his head to the side and spotted the bloody teddy bear again. It stared at him with its ugly eyes and Draco realised with disgust Ron’s beloved plush bear was going to see him come. He scowled at it and moved his hand from Ron’s hair to swat it away. He then gripped the sheets desperately, reaching for something to hold as his balls tightened, a knot building up in his stomach, eyes slipping shut again, he wanted this to last forever, but…

_“F-fuck!”_ Draco’s voice wavered as he emptied himself into Weasley’s mouth. His mind reeled as Ron continued to suck until Draco couldn’t take it anymore and started to tremble. Not before then did Ron lift his head, cheeks flushed hot from the effort. He pressed his sweaty face against Draco’s throat and sighed.

“Why did you…” Draco began, but Ron silenced him.

“Sleep for fuck’s sake,” Ron said with a little smile. “That was supposed to make you tired.”

Draco snorted. He wanted to say something, but Ron already drifted away, yawning against his chest.

“If you can’t sleep…” The redhead muttered sleepily, “At least you can go up and make breakfast. Mm… like frying eggs or something… You do know how the stove works right?”

“Of course I do,” Draco huffed, “I’m not an idiot, Weasley.”

He knew Ron knew he had absolutely no idea how a stove worked. Besides, even if Draco wanted to, he was far too comfortable with a sleeping Ron on his chest to be able to move. He would just lay here for a few more minutes… Wide awake, contemplating how to say the stupid L-word he knew he felt all the way down to his core.

_Fucking Weasley,_ Draco thought again. And fuck Weasley’s ugly teddy bear too.

He got to sleep more in Ron’s bed than Draco ever got to.


	2. A quarrel between lovers

**Part II: A quarrel between lovers**

Things had got out of hand.

The problem was Ron’s teddy bear. Draco had decided that it was definitely the case and no matter what Weasley said, there was no chance he could deny it.

“Why the hell are you bothered that I have a plush bear in my bed?!” Ron shouted, his voice ringing between the walls in the small flat. He gestured wildly with his arm, the teddy bear dangled in his firm grip. “Like I’ve said a _thousand times now,_ Malfoy, he’s a childhood toy, and I have him in my bed because I _want_ it, you’re mental for making such a big deal out of this!”

“You’re a grown man!” Draco shouted back. They had been arguing for the past hour, he had worked himself into a state of sheer anger, and he _rarely_ was in this mood. Ron’s temper must have rubbed off on him like so many other things had done before. His sappiness, for example; Draco almost wanted to shudder. No, in fact, he _did_ shudder thinking about it.

“So?! Why is this a problem?! You’re being…” Ron threw his hands up in defeat, looking for a word they both knew he wasn’t sure he wanted to say.

“I’m what?!” Draco retorted. “Tell me, Weasley, go on.”

_If you dare._

Draco raised his eyebrows in a challenge.

“Weird!” Ron finished. “You’re so bloody weird, Draco! Fuck’s sake!” He sighed loudly and rubbed over his face with his free hand.

Over the seven months of dating, Draco and Ron had fought many times. Most of their arguments came from how they both possessed the ability to be utter pricks to each other, or as Weasley seemed to think, that Draco sometimes was a petty little shit head as he so politely had declared a few weeks ago. They had had an argument over something both of them had forgotten at this point. Ron and Draco were two very passionate people; Draco’s self-control faltered more times than he would like to admit, clashing with Ron’s hotheadedness. It led to him yelling loudly too, and they would argue until they ran out of words and insults to throw to each other. But being passionate also had its advantages, as their arguments often ended with both of them in a messy, naked pile tangled together in Ron’s bed.

That didn’t seem like it would happen today, though.

Draco’s eyes shot daggers at Weasley, and his hands balled into fists. Weasley was so fucking stupid. Draco knew the stupid teddy bear had nothing to do with his rage: for Merlin’s sake, he wasn’t that childish. Not really. The problem — and Draco couldn’t say it — were two things.

One: Draco still couldn’t say the L-word.

Two: Ron’s Auror’s training.

Seven days had gone by since Draco first knew he wanted to say the annoying three-word phrase to Ron and it bothered him to no end how bloody difficult it was. All he had to do was to open his mouth and say it, but it was damn hard, and Draco didn’t know why. He wasn’t a very affectionate person, his parents had never shown him any affection growing up, saying _I love you_ wasn’t a common thing happening inside the Malfoy Manor. Draco had always been closest to his mother, and she too had difficulties with saying the phrase. He wondered if he ever had heard his parents say it to each other even, he couldn’t remember. Ron had said nothing either, so maybe he didn’t feel the same way about him, and the thought was so bothersome it made Draco angry all over again.

The other thing was Ron’s Auror’s training. Both Potter and Weasley trained to become Aurors. Despite being war heroes, they hadn’t been able to skip the required education, and both of them had enrolled in the Auror’s program almost immediately after the Battle. Draco knew Ron was a skilled wizard, and there was no doubt he would be a fine Auror. Contrary to popular belief, Weasley did well on his own, without the need of Potter at his side. They weren’t in the same class and didn’t hang out as much as they used to anymore, not when Draco was in the picture and Ron’s weekends were all about him.

The three years long Auror’s program involved a lot of studying and a lot of practical training missions, especially during the second and third year. Ron was in his last year, and since it was summer outside, it was getting closer and closer to the final test. Draco could tell his boyfriend was both nervous and stressed — Ron hadn’t exactly been relaxed during Draco’s visits for some time now. He had suggested they would take a break from seeing each other despite it hurting him because Draco couldn’t really bear the thought of being away from Ron. But Weasley kept insisting it was fine, so Draco kept coming over and pretended he wasn’t irritated that Ron always seemed to be somewhere else in his mind. Last Friday, when they both had been a bit drunk and had had ridiculously good sex, Ron had been his usual old self again, which had made Draco so happy. The morning after had been great too, Draco thought to himself, watching Weasley’s moody face from across the room.

Draco glared back. Ron had been annoyed yesterday when Draco came over; his last practice test before the big exam hadn’t gone that well, and he was afraid he would fail and never be able to graduate.

_’It doesn’t help that Harry had been brilliant too, doing everything with such ease,’_ Weasley had scowled over a glass of red wine as he stood by the stove in the corner of the shoebox he lived in and fried up some steak. The meat had crackled angrily in the frying pan, which had led to Ron burning himself and become even moodier. When he flipped the steak over, and it had been black on the surface, he had given a frustrated scream and firmly decided they would order pizza.

It didn’t do that Draco gently tried to remind Ron that he was a bloody war hero who had helped defeat Voldemort. Ron had been so angry over stupid Potter and his apparent brilliance that Draco had given up. He was just glad he hadn’t got Ron started on Granger who worked at the Ministry nowadays, Ron would still talk if he had brought her up up; Draco was sure of it.

Ron’s foul mood yesterday had led to them not having any sex either. Draco hadn’t been properly fucked since the last time he had been in Ron’s flat, and he didn’t like to acknowledge that it had made him a little irritated too. Not that he was some kind of horny animal, he just… _missed_ Weasley, that was all. In every sense of the word.

That wasn’t wrong, was it?

_Plus, I…_

“Hey…” Ron suddenly said, taking a tentative step towards Draco and interrupting the thoughts rushing through his mind. Ron tossed the plush bear aside, and it landed in a sad little pile in one corner. He smiled a little, raising his coppery eyebrows. His blue eyes locked onto Draco’s grey and there was no anger in them anymore. “Can we…” He licked his lips before continuing, “Can we please stop fighting? I kinda hate when we do; it reminds me of how we were to each other in school. What do you say, Malfoy?”

Draco pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. He refused to answer. He wasn’t done arguing in his head, in his mind tossing something hard in Weasley’s large, stupid head. Would serve him right, especially when he looked at him like he was now, all smiling and looking so adorable and just…

Draco huffed irritably. He had hated Weasley’s face so much in school; how come he couldn’t resist him now? Curse him and how weak he was! Ron’s expression was soft, not screwed up in anger anymore.

“I hate when we fight,” Ron said again, now so close he could loop his arms around Draco’s waist. He did it too, and Draco let him without as much as a moment of hesitation. Being in love with Weasley kind of did that to him, he realised, as Ron pulled him close and kissed him on top of his head.

“This is literally our dumbest fight ever too,” Ron concluded with a sigh against Draco’s light hair.Draco didn’t answer; he simply hid his face in Ron’s warm chest, taking in the comforting scent of old, worn-out clothes and another scent that was unique only to him. Never in his life would Draco have imagined he would ever find the smell of old clothes soothing — things had changed so much over a few years. Everything was behind him now, the bigotry, prejudice and hate.

_I love you, Weasley._

Draco stayed in the safe darkness against Ron’s shirt, blinking a little and letting Ron’s warm hand move in soothing circles over his shoulder. Weasley wore some kind of red-blue chequered monstrosity today that clashed horribly with his red hair. He had no taste in clothing, but at this point, he might as well have been wearing a paper sack and Draco would still find him as attractive as ever.

“I know I am a little off right now…” Ron continued in a low, soft voice, letting a warm hand move from Draco’s shoulder down his shirt-clad back, settling at the edge of his black trousers. “And busy with school…But starting a fight over what I have in my bed is low, even for you. It’s not like I bring any other blokes over, yet you act a bit like I do.” His voice held no accusation, no, it was full of playfulness and teasing. Clearly, this was all a big joke to Weasley.

Draco lifted his head from Ron’s chest, glowering and about to protest. But Ron took his chance and seized his lips in a warm kiss, sending waves of pleasure almost immediately down Draco’s spine. It wasn’t fair at all how Weasley had that power over him.

As Ron’s tongue sought entrance into Draco’s mouth, Draco felt how Ron’s hand on his lower back moved further down to grope his arse while the other caressed his side. His eyes slipped shut slowly, Ron’s were already closed. Ron tilted his head to the side to get a better angle of kissing, and Draco felt, as he had so many times before, how he slowly turned to jelly in the other man’s arms.

It really wasn’t fair.

“Weasley…” Draco muttered when they parted after a few minutes, his fingers caressing the nape of Ron’s neck. He wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what.

“Mm?” Ron planted a kiss on Draco’s left temple, then on his cheek, kissing along his jawline up to his ear before finally taking his earlobe between his teeth and biting down gently. Draco let out a little sigh, fingers now digging into the cheap material of Ron’s shirt.

“What are you…”

Ron looked up, worried. “Oh, sorry, maybe you don’t want to do this,” he said, starting to pull away.

_Don’t stop Weasley, please._

“I want everything,” Draco assured him, tightening his grip around Ron. “But…”

_But what?_

_Fuck, why was this so hard?!_

“We’re kind of in the middle of an argument,” he finally said lamely, staring defiantly into Ron’s blue eyes. They were so intensely, stupidly, fucking blue. Like the sky on a bright, cloudless, perfect summer’s day. They were like the deepest, bluest ocean in the world.

They were like…

Ron looked at him and laughed. “Yeah, you’re right about that,” he said, kissing Draco’s nose. “But it’s not my fault you’re so bloody cute when you’re angry. Besides… Need to make up for yesterday, don’t we?” He shot him a lopsided smile before pressing their foreheads together. It was all so intimate; Draco almost became nauseous from it. He wasn’t used to it, wondered if he would ever be, even though Ron had showered him in this kind of intimacy for seven months now.

Ron gave him another warm, brain-melting kiss, unbuttoning his shirt with no effort at all. It soon dropped to the floor along with Draco’s coherent thoughts as Ron’s talented fingers took his breath away altogether.

Afterwards, they cuddled together on Ron’s not entirely comfortable old sofa. It was some brown leather thing Draco despised, much like all the shoddy interior in this tiny little shoebox that Ron dared to call a flat. He was naked and content, basking in the glory of the wonderful sex they had just enjoyed. They were both still sticky from their combined juices, and Draco could feel Ron doze off again. Draco lay on Ron's chest and listened to his even heartbeat that mere minutes ago had beaten as quick and excitedly as Draco’s own when they both had worked in unison to be pushed together over that glorious edge to accomplish sheer and utter bliss.

Weasley yawned.

“We should fight more often… It always ends like this, doesn’t it?” Draco didn’t have to look to know that Ron was smiling.

“Yes…” Draco agreed with a feeble nod. They definitely should. His body ached pleasantly from Ron’s previous touching, his own hand resting on the redhead’s flat stomach. He traced the freckles on Ron’s body gently with his finger, connecting the dots.

Ron always fell asleep after sex. Draco lay there listening to his boyfriend’s light snores, pressing his lips together. The things he put off thinking about during their physical activities came back at full speed, and this time they brought another thought of anxiety with them.

_The Auror’s program is dangerous._

Draco knew what he was getting himself into when he started going out with Ron. Ron had already been a student for two years when they admitted their feelings for each other, so Draco couldn’t understand why all of this felt so wrong now. Why he suddenly worried so much. He mused briefly to himself if it was post-traumatic stress from the war that made him feel like this; Ron hadn’t been in a proper wizarding fight since then, and that time they all had been _lucky._ What if Weasley wouldn’t be lucky a second time? Or a third? A fourth?

Draco propped himself up on his elbow and glanced at Ron’s sleeping form. Would he be one of those in the future? A sappy mess of a human being who would pace back and forth in their mutual home — if they were to live together, that was — wondering if Ron would be home in one piece that day or if somebody from the Ministry would show up on their doorstep to deliver the awful news.

_’I’m sorry Mr Malfoy, it breaks my heart to say that Mr Weasley passed away in a terrible accident…’_

The anxious thoughts made his throat tighten with fright.

“Weasley…” Draco said, clearing his throat. He shook Ron softly to alert his attention. “Weasley?”

When Ron didn’t answer, Draco bent down to kiss his chest right above a pink nipple. “Weasley?”

Draco sighed. How deep could one sleep anyway?

“Weasley?!” He demanded, shaking Ron harder.

After what felt like bloody ages, Ron’s eyes _finally_ opened and he gave Draco a dazed look, frowning slightly. “What?”

_Are you never worried? Are you never afraid you won’t survive out there on the field? I’m not saying you’re not skilled Weasley or know what you’re doing, but… aren’t you… Are you sure…_

The words got stuck in his throat.

_I’ve never been good with emotions._

“Nothing,” Draco said quietly after Weasley’s suspiciously narrowed eyes had studied him for too long and he felt uncomfortable under his gaze. “Nothing, Weasley, go back to sleep.”

“I can see it’s not nothing,” said Ron, looking concerned. “What is it, I feel like you’ve been hiding something from me for weeks now.” He lifted his hand to stroke Draco’s cheek with his thumb.

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

His voice echoed in Draco’s mind, ringing in his ears. Yes, he supposed he knew… But everything was too damn hard; some things he never seemed able to tell. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, and it was driving him mental to no end.

Especially when Weasley looked at him like he did now, with so much raw emotion, and told him all the heavenly things. Like how he would always be there for him, Draco could trust him, he could tell him anything, he didn’t have to hide, everything’s fine…

_I love you, Weasley._

And it was difficult. Draco was used to having walls up, was used to let no one get under his skin. Emotions were for the weak, they belonged in people like Weasley, not in people like Draco Lucius Malfoy.

_I love you, Weasley._

“I-I know…” Draco swallowed. He watched Ron with his stormy grey eyes and decided that this Saturday wasn’t made for emotions either. “But it’s nothing. You’re tired. Sleep.” He smiled down at him, hoping it was convincing.

“No, now I want to know what it is.” Ron sat up and put his arms around Draco’s shoulders. “You’ve woken me up, you tell me what’s on your mind. House rules, mate.”

“For the last time, Weasley, this isn’t a house,” Draco reminded him with a frown.

“Shut up. Tell me what it is.”

Draco’s mouth turned dry.

“I… I’m hungry,” he answered defiantly. “There, I said it. I’m hungry, and we should eat.”

Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s all? Why was that so hard to say for you?”

“Just was.” Draco scowled. Ron’s expression became soft, and he shot him another one of those lopsided smiles that Draco didn’t know he could be so utterly weak for.

“You’re weird,” he said, leaning forward to give Draco a kiss on the forehead. “Cute but weird. Alright. Let’s go see if there’s anything in the fridge, if not, I’ll take you out. Sounds good?”

Draco nodded. It sounded good.


	3. Wearing our hearts on our sleeves

**Part III: Wearing our hearts on our sleeves**

The following Tuesday, Draco sat in front of his kitchen table, glaring at the piece of parchment in his hands. He was in a foul mood, and it was all Ron Weasley’s fault.

In his sloppy handwriting, Ron had informed Draco that he was very sorry, but Draco couldn’t come over on Friday. The professors had decided to schedule the final tests on Saturday. Weasley needed every second he could to practice for them.

’ _You_ ’ _ll just distract me if you come over and I can_ ’ _t be distracted. I_ ’ _m so sorry,_ ’ the letter said. ’ _But maybe we could meet up afterwards and either cry or celebrate together, what do you say?_ ’

Draco crossed his arms over his chest before leaning back in his seat. He leant back rather violently, and the chair protested beneath his weight. He didn’t want to admit even to himself that he was a bit upset that he wasn’t allowed to be in Ron’s shoebox this Friday.

Draco understood Ron needed time to study and prepare, but why couldn’t he be there at the same time? He could test him or something, at least with the theory. Make sure Ron would get up on time Saturday morning. Wait for him until he came back. He wouldn’t be in the way.

_How pathetic are you, exactly? Look how needy you_ ’ _ve become since you got a boyfriend. Is this what love does for a person? Makes one hooked and strange and… mushy?_

_Weasley_ ’ _s like a damn drug and I just want more and more._

Draco shook his head, giving the letter another angry look. He almost hoped it would somehow transfer through the parchment and reach Weasley. That would teach him.

Two hours later, the letter still laid on the table without Draco bothering to write a response. He told himself he would soon; he wanted Weasley to sweat a bit first. Be a little worried.Ron had almost made _him_ worried when the owl showed up outside his kitchen window. He rarely wrote Draco letters and Draco never wrote him either. They weren’t a couple who did that; it wasn’t their style. Sometimes Ron’s Jack Russel Patronus showed up to wish Draco a good night, but it wasn't often. Almost all their meetings happened inside of Ron's little flat.

Draco paced back and forth in the sitting room, his mind restless for an unknown reason. He stopped when his eyes fell on something on the sofa that didn’t belong to the interior. That something sat in front of an emerald green decorative pillow and seemed to follow Draco’s every move with its weird black eyes.

_Weasley_ ’ _s teddy bear._

Draco didn’t know what he had been thinking before he Disapparated home late last Sunday night. He had packed his things in his overnight bag when he'd spotted the plush toy, back in its usual place on Ron’s unmade bed. Draco had given the bear a proper glare before he without conscious thought, picked it up and tossed it in his bag. Ron didn’t notice a thing. He hadn’t said anything about the bear in the letter either. Hadn’t he realised yet that it was gone? Not that Draco was going to ask.

He walked up to the small child’s toy and picked it up. It was at least twenty years old and had so much wear and tear in its fur. It was clear it had been very loved since Ron was a small boy; the once soft fur now felt coarse under Draco’s fingertips.

Draco couldn’t help the small smile twisting his lips as he brought the little bear close to his chest and gave it a hug. He then buried his nose against one of the battered ears, inhaling the smell. It smelt old, like a dusty attic. Had it been several years ago, Draco would have gagged at the smell and laughed. Smelly old things were for poor people. But now… everything had changed. For almost a year, Draco had found the scent of old and worn-out to be the most comforting smell in the world.

The teddy bear also carried another scent—the very special, unique scent of _Ron._

’ _Maybe we could meet up afterwards and either cry together or celebrate, what do you say?_ ’

Yes… Draco wanted that. If he got to decide the whole thing, he would have been at Ron’s place yesterday.

There was nothing he wanted more than to throw himself in his boyfriend’s arms and let himself be held forever. Bury his nose in the crook of Weasley’s warm neck, and tell him how much he lo—

_Merlin and Salazar and Helga fucking Hufflepuff,_ this sappiness was so, so unlike him. What would people say if they could see him now? Draco snapped his eyes shut at the thought. His father would not take kindly to it; Draco being this emotional and over a Weasley _out of all things._ Lucius still hadn’t recovered from the shock when he found out that Draco and Ron were together.

Overcome with the feeling that holding Weasley’s teddy bear was too strange, Draco threw the battered plush animal back on the sofa. It was odd that he had stolen it. He threw the bear a disgusted look, and it gazed back with the weird eyes Draco found uncomfortable.

“Stop looking at me!” Draco hissed, and then he marched out of the room, deciding that Ron had waited long enough for a response now.

’ _Yes, I suppose we could do that Weasley, if…’_ Draco wrote, hesitating a little on how to finish the sentence. _If you like_ sounded pathetic. After a moment of consideration, Draco decided to remove the _if_ and simply wrote: ’ _Good luck on your tests. See you Saturday. D_ ’

He sent the letter with his owl a few minutes later. Draco stood by the kitchen window, watching the bird fly off into the distance with the message to Weasley strapped to its leg.

***

Saturday.

Ron had written back to Draco Tuesday evening, saying that he would send Draco a Patronus once he was done with his exams.

’ _Good thing we_ ’ _re wizards,_ ’ Ron wrote. ’ _You can Apparate to me the minute you get my Patronus. Can_ ’ _t wait. I miss you. I_ ’ _m sorry you have to wait a bit. R._ ’

_Well, yes, Weasley, I miss you too._

Draco’s heart seemed to beat extra fast this day, which was infuriating. He tried to keep himself busy, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake off the anxious feeling. He felt it everywhere: in the pit of his stomach, in the soft tingling in his wrists, the way his hair itched… Draco was nervous, for Ron’s sake. Today Weasley would find out if he qualified to be an Auror.

Draco knew Ron’s self-confidence wasn’t the best. If he didn’t pass… Draco knew Ron wouldn’t take it well.

_Was it possible to die during an exam?_

Ron had never mentioned anything about the tests and what would happen during them. Draco knew nothing about the Auror’s profession, only that it required a vast amount of studying. Weasley had worked hard. He deserved to pass.

Saturday morning turned into Saturday afternoon. Draco spent the day inside his apartment, pretending he wasn’t pacing back and forth at all because he couldn’t stop thinking about Ron and the stupid bloody exams. He simply couldn’t be bothered to sit still, _and that was all._

It was a sunny day out, and the streets buzzed with life. Everyone in the Wizarding world was out enjoying every ray of sunshine they could get. Draco spent the day inside like a moody vampire, only wanting his boyfriend’s annoying Patronus to appear so he could meet him. Draco eyed the ancient clock hanging on the wall in his sitting room. Four pm. He took a deep breath.

The exams must be over soon.

Three hours later, Draco still hadn’t seen the damn dog Patronus. Did the tests really take that long? No… they couldn’t. Could they? Draco sighed, trying his best to be patient. He put the book he’d been reading aside and walked into his bedroom. He had decided to change into something nicer than the simple light-grey t-shirt and black trousers he had put on this morning. Weasley’s Patronus must show up any minute now, and Draco wanted to look good for later tonight.

Eight o’clock. Half-past eight. When it was nine o’clock, and Weasley still hadn’t sent out the Jack Russel terrier, Draco began to worry more than he had done all day. It was getting late, and…

_What if something had happened to Ron?_

Draco froze midway through buttoning up a shirt. Anxiety struck him like lightning striking a tree. The picture of Weasley lying dead on the ground after a spell gone wrong popped up in his mind and his body stiffened. What if Ron miscalculated something and... He hated himself for worrying, but he couldn't stop. Struggling with his horrible thoughts; Draco decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He finished getting dressed in a hurry before Disapparating away. He needed to look for Ron.

Something about this wasn’t right.

***

Draco knew Ron’s strategic mind was absolutely brilliant. He might have trouble voicing it, but Merlin, it was. Draco fancied himself good at Wizarding chess, but Ron seemed to have a natural feeling for it. He won every game they played without much effort but shrugged it off like it was nothing. Draco knew it wasn’t nothing. He was just great, and he didn’t even realise it.

Weasley had the potential to be a great Auror too, but his self-confidence required a lot of work.

_What if his low self-confidence caused trouble for him during the exams?_

_What if he was dead?_

The image of a dead Ron kept showing up in Draco’s mind, and he forced it away with all his might. He couldn’t afford to think like that. It was spontaneous and rash and not at all like him. But then again, nothing was the same since Draco had met him.

The familiar interior of Weasley’s shoebox stood before his eyes. Draco had Apparated to Ron’s little flat, hoping that Weasley would be there and _not_ dead somewhere. He shook his head at Ron's forgetfulness as his eyes roamed over the room; Ron hadn't put up any wards to prevent strangers from Apparating into his home.

The flat was dark, with no one at home. Clothes laid messily in a pile near the bed in the far-end corner, and the remains of breakfast were left on the kitchen table. Ron seemed to have left his flat in a hurry this morning—probably overslept again. Draco gave the flat one last glance before he Disapparated to the next destination: The Auror school. He intended to look everywhere he knew Ron could be; he needed to find him. Draco still hadn’t seen the bloody Patronus.

_Where the hell was Weasley?_

Another anxious thought hit Draco like a Bludger to his stomach once he Apparated to the nearby park close to the Auror training school.

_What if Ron had…_

No, Draco shook his head. That didn’t seem like something Weasley would do. Still, Draco wasn’t quite sure.

_What if Ron_ ’ _s self-confidence was so bad that he_ ’ _d commit suicide if he failed his exams?_

Draco could see it clear as day in front of him. Potter passing with flying colours, and Weasley didn’t have the same luck. He’d become devastated and thrown himself off a bridge. Draco hurried towards the school, the increased steps soon turned into running.

_No, you dickhead, you are not allowed to kill yourself._

Draco’s heart hammered in his chest; he couldn’t think as he rushed between the trees and people taking a stroll in the evening sun. It had started to darken and the hour was late.

His thoughts raced with no stopping; he had no control over them. Draco was about to work himself into a panic attack, which meant this was getting bad. He wasn’t one to do that. He _couldn_ ’ _t_ do that.

Draco panted and was out of breath when he reached the stairs leading up to the main entrance. With his hands running through his white-blond hair, he glared up at the huge concrete monstrosity in front of his eyes. This was the Auror training school, situated in a Muggle area in the outskirts of London. A Muggle without magical abilities wouldn’t be able to see the school or the people moving in and out of it. It was well-protected with lots of magic, or so Weasley had told him once. Here aspiring Aurors trained to earn themselves a position among the professionals in the Auror’s department at the Ministry of Magic.

A few students exited the school just as Draco came to a halt by the grand staircase. They chatted eagerly, none of them paying attention to him.

“Excuse me!” Draco yelled before he could think things through. It came out as more of a wheeze, he was still breathing hard from his run.

A blonde, curly-haired young woman from the small group turned to him, dark eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"

“You don’t happen to know when the third-year students end their final exams, do you?”

Draco realised too late it might be a stupid question. It was _Saturday._ The only ones who had exams today were the third-years. There were no other students at the school today to occupy the training rooms. Draco had a faint memory of Weasley saying that some time ago, but Draco couldn’t quite remember. It was possible he had made that up.

Well, never mind. That wasn’t the point.

“Oh, they ended twenty minutes ago,” the woman informed him, flipping her wild hair over her shoulder. “We just came out from there. Most people have already left, though.” She gave him a smile. “Are you waiting for somebody?”

“Weasley…” said Draco, glad that he had stopped panting. “Would you know if… Have you seen him?” _Fucking Salazar_ that sounded so bloody corny.

The woman shook her head, the curls dancing about her ears. “Weasley… No, I don’t think so. Sorry.”

So Weasley wasn’t there. Draco let out a frustrated sigh as soon as the woman and her company disappeared down the street.

_Where the hell was he and where was his goddamn Patronus?!_

He sat down on a nearby bench and tried to think and stay calm. It wasn’t easy. His heart still raced, and he kept thinking anxious thoughts. What if he was right? What if Ron was… _dead?_ Or hurt.

The woman and her friends hadn’t looked worried or frightened. That was good news. Maybe nobody had died during the exams then. The thought of suicide still bothered him, though.

_But would Weasley really…_

Draco forced himself to think straight and not let his emotions get the best of him, although he realised it was far too late for that. He grimaced to himself as he tried to decide where to Disapparate next.

Potter would be the obvious choice, but despite them getting along now and Draco could count Harry as one of his friends, he still wasn’t fond of the idea to show up at the doorstep of his house. Or Granger’s, for that matter. Draco was fast to discard the idea. No, he was going to find the red-haired bastard all by himself.

Draco closed his eyes for a moment and tried to envision Weasley. He’d seen every inch of Ron for seven months, so he figured he might have a good grasp of where he would most likely be seen as well. If that made sense, which he was sure it didn't. But the point was that Draco knew Ron. He did, and he was going to find him.

Ron had once admitted that he liked the Muggle trains and how they looked a bit different from the Hogwarts express. He was fascinated by them and sometimes took the train home, just to enjoy the ride. Draco thought it was silly because Apparition was better and faster. He’d told Ron sometimes, but the man was stubborn.

There happened to be a train station not too far from the school, in the opposite direction of the park.

Draco got up to his feet. It was worth a try. He started running again, too frustrated and worried to chance to Disapparate now. As he got nearer the train station, he got more and more furious too.

Especially as the sky seemed to rip open without any warning at all, soaking him in a matter of seconds. Fearing thunder might be rolling in —it had been a warm day— Draco sped up his pace, muttering something about stupid Weasley under his breath.

It rained so hard it was difficult to see what was in front of him. Draco ran too fast on the slippery pavement, scared for Weasley and what state he would find him in—if he would find him at all. With his pulse drumming in his ears, Draco didn’t see the tall figure appearing in front of him, coming out of nowhere. It was inevitable their bodies collided. Draco fell backwards onto the wet concrete, hard and ungraceful. It was embarrassing, and it hurt.

“Oh, shit, sorry about that mate, didn’t see you… _Fuck,_ I’m so sorry… _Draco?”_

The voice sounded hesitant, confused and worried.

Draco had managed to hit both his back and the back of his head when he fell against the ground. Feeling a bit dizzy, he opened his eyes—he must have closed them without realising it—prepared to give the rude stranger a piece of his mind.

But there was something about that voice. It sounded… _familiar._

Draco’s grey eyes gazed up into a pair of gorgeous blue and wide. He barely had time to open his mouth to say something because Ron —dropping to the ground too— had wrapped his arms around him and lifted him slightly so he could hold him against his chest. Ron’s warm, large hand stroked Draco’s hair, kissing him atop the head.

“I’m so sorry…” Ron mumbled over and over again against Draco’s hair. “Are you all right?” The redhead held him so close to him Draco almost couldn't breathe. “Didn’t see you… Are you hurt?” He cupped Draco’s face with both hands, his eyes roaming all over Draco to make sure he wasn’t bleeding anywhere. Ron looked so worried and sad that an unwelcome lump formed in Draco’s throat.

He hated it.

Draco swallowed hard before pushing Weasley away from him. It wasn’t too hard of a push, but enough for the redhead to topple over.

“Idiot!” Draco roared. “You absolute idiot!”

_Do you have any idea how worried I_ ’ _ve been?!?!_

In a matter of seconds, their positions were reversed. Ron was now the one lying on the ground, and Draco was on top of him, punching his fists into Ron’s chest.

It was childish, but he couldn’t help it. Draco was so relieved to see his boyfriend.

“Idiot!” He shouted again over the rain at the empty train station. “Idiot! Idiot! IDIOT!” Draco was so beside himself, even his insult game was off. He really had gone soft during these seven months. That giant ginger tosser, Draco hated him.

Absolutely hated him.

“Calm down for fuck’s sake!” Ron took hold of Draco’s wrists, forcing them to be still. They were both soaking wet now, Ron’s red fringe was glued to his forehead.

“Why. Didn’t. You. Send. That. Bloody. Patronus. You. Promised. Me?!” Draco managed through gritted teeth. He was so angry he was shaking. Adrenaline rushed through his body, and every emotion seemed to spiral out of control all at once. “I thought… _Twenty minutes,_ Weasley, you fucking—” He tried to wriggle free, but Ron held his wrists in an iron grip. Fuck him and how strong he was. Draco wasn’t so bad either, but Ron had both a weight and height advantage.

“Hey, hey, shh, _calm down,”_ Ron said, using his soothing voice that Draco didn’t like.

“ _Calm down!”_ Draco mimicked mockingly. How dared Weasley, he was far too upset for that. He glowered at the wizard beneath him, his hands still balled into fists. They stared at each other for a few moments.

“Draco, can you please get off me?” Ron asked. “This isn’t really comfortable.”

“No. You’re so selfish, Weasley, and I _hate_ you.”

“I’m what now— Look, Draco, you’re upset. Get off me, and I’ll explain. Promise.”

Draco gave Ron another hard look, but he did as he said and quietly moved to sit beside him instead. There was no point in getting to his feet, he was already wet, and he was still a little dizzy from his previous fall.

Ron sat up too, but he pulled Draco close to him again. Draco didn't object to that. Ron muttered a spell against his hair, and suddenly the rain stopped. It still poured down from the sky, but Ron’s spell had put up an invisible barrier which prevented them from getting wetter. Draco gave him a look, but Ron only winked and pulled him even closer. They sat like that for a few minutes in silence and Draco did what he had longed for all week. He finally buried his face in the small space between Ron’s shoulder and neck.

It was as warm and safe as he had imagined it would be.

“Hey…” Ron said in a low voice after a while, caressing Draco’s cheek. “Have I told you recently how adorable you are?”

Draco’s head shot up from Ron’s shoulder. He was about to protest, but Ron shushed him before he even had a chance to begin.

“Yeah, I know you don’t like when I say that,” he smiled. “But you are. It’s weird, actually. I remember that angry, mean little shit from school, always making Harry’s life miserable. And mine. And Hermione’s, and—”

Draco sighed, feeling irritated. “What’s your point, Weasley?”

“My point…” Ron continued in a solemn voice as if delivering horrible news, “is that you’re a little bastard.” When Draco gave him another glare, Ron’s face broke into a grin, unable to hold the serious expression any longer. “No, I’m sorry,” he said, kissing Draco on the temple. “And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. The tests took all day. They wouldn’t give me any chance to contact you. It’s been bloody mental, to be honest.” He shook his head. “I love you, I’m sorry I got you all worried and made you come look for me.”

_I love you._

Draco stared blankly at him, mouth hanging open in surprise. They were so close together, they almost shared breaths. Ron —realising what he’d said—turned pink. He shifted a little beside Draco to put some space between them. “I—I’m sorry. Didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” He dropped his gaze to his knees. “I do feel that way, though. About you,” the redhead continued in a low voice. “Been meaning to say it, but maybe not like this.” Ron glanced at him, smiling and warm like sunshine.

_I love you._

Draco had trouble finding his voice. All this time he had tried to work up his courage, Weasley had thought about the same thing. _Felt_ the same thing. And the way it had slipped off his lips… It had seemed so easy. He could do nothing else than to stare at Ron. Words seemed to have abandoned him altogether.

“I, uh, passed by the way,” said Ron. “Every test. I’m officially an Auror now, so…”

“You love me?” Draco stared at Ron like he had seen a ghost. His chest hurt; his head spun.

“Well, yeah.” Ron’s eyes were insecure. “Is…that… not what you want?”

Draco couldn’t breathe. It became too much, and he felt angry. He pushed Ron away and got to his feet, not caring that he wasn’t protected by Ron’s spell anymore. He needed to get away from him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Draco heard Ron mutter behind him as he walked away. It didn’t matter that he increased his pace to an almost-run again, Weasley was soon in front of him, blocking his way. His hands were on Draco’s shoulders, and he realised Ron wouldn’t let him or this go without an explanation.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Ron demanded in his usual, blunt sort of way. “Look, I’m sorry the bloody exams took so long. I really tried to message you, but like I said, they wouldn’t let me.”

“You tried nothing!” Draco said, his voice loud. “I happen to know your damn exams have been over for twenty minutes and you didn’t make any attempts to contact me after they were done at all. I’ve been looking all over for you, Weasley, because I thought you were dead and when I finally see you, you say that you love me and—” He cut himself off; this sounded so pathetic he wanted to cringe. When did he start to sound like this? Like a person who cared and had feelings.

Ron frowned. “What do you mean by you thought I was dead?”

“You never sent your Patronus, and you were gone all day, so…”

“So the first thing that comes to your mind when you don’t hear from me is that I must be dead?” Ron asked, raising his eyebrows. “You knew I had my final exams day.”

Ron looked into Draco’s eyes so intently that Draco shrunk beneath his gaze. He felt so small. “Yes…I thought you had got into an accident or failed and…”

“Maybe jumped off a bridge?” Ron finished for him, amused.

Draco glared at him. “I was worried.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence. Then, to Draco’s annoyance, Ron started to laugh. He looped his arms around Draco and squeezed. His boyfriend seemed extra cuddly tonight, and frankly, Draco didn’t mind it. He never wanted Ron to stop hugging him, but he wasn’t going to admit it.

“Have anybody ever told you that you’re insanely dramatic?” Ron whispered into his ear. “You're lucky that you're insanely cute too so you can get away with it.” He pressed a kiss to the shell of Draco’s ear. “I’m so sorry that I worried you so much. I’m shit at keeping in touch. You’re right; I should have sent you a Patronus the minute the exams were over. I wanted to get home and tidy up a bit first, so I could invite you later on. Guess I waited too long.”

Their eyes met again. Ron pressed their foreheads together. “I love you. And I fancy you more than I’ve ever fancied someone before. I promise to be better at sending Patronuses and messages. I’m shit at sending letters too. What do you say, we can both agree to be better at keeping in touch? See each other more often too. I’m not in school anymore; I’m gonna have more free time. Starting with a whole week off before work starts. Wanna spend it with me and—”

It was Ron’s turn to stop talking now. Draco kissed him, wrapping his arms around Ron’s frame. His tongue met Ron's, so passionately, hot and hard the redhead almost fell over again. When they broke apart after a while, they were both breathless, and it had finally stopped raining.

“Yes…” Draco said into the small space between them. “To everything you said. And…” he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, thinking that he couldn’t run away from this anymore. It was now or never. “I-love-you-too-now-shut-up-and-never-speak-about-this-again.” Draco said it fast in one long breath. Then he pulled away from Ron’s embrace and started walking back towards the school, informing Ron over his shoulder that he was the better of the two of them at Apparition and that he could Apparate them both to Ron’s flat if he hurried up.

“Which, by the way, I’ve already been in today, Weasley. You forgot to put up your wards. You’re really not afraid of getting robbed, are you?”

“Eh,” Ron shrugged, catching up with him. “What’s there to rob, anyway? It’s just a shoebox like you said.”

He laughed when Draco looked at him.

_Fin_


End file.
